


anything, everything

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Making Out, Married Sheith, Porn with Feelings, Post-Series, contains 1 zan fic reference, dom shiro, season 8 whomst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:43:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: “Come out to the desert with me this weekend,” Keith murmurs, one night when they’re curled into each other, languid and sated but still longing for each other’s skin. They don’t get much time to themselves at the Garrison, let alone the space to spend it together. In their cramped quarters, with the door to the hallway only a few meters away from their bed, it’s difficult to completely relax and let loose with each other.[or, Shiro and Keith take a break.]





	anything, everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tagteamme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/gifts).



> happy late birthday, zan!! <3 enjoy this birthdaymonth sheith thing that absolutely was NOT supposed to hit 3k, buuut i have zero self-control. :p

“Come out to the desert with me this weekend,” Keith murmurs, one night when they’re curled into each other, languid and sated but still longing for each other’s skin. They don’t get much time to themselves at the Garrison, let alone the space to spend it together. In their cramped quarters, with the door to the hallway only a few meters away from their bed, it’s difficult to completely relax and let loose with each other. Lately, the sex they _do_ manage to have comes in the form of efficient, practical handjobs just before they fall asleep.

And it’s good. It _is_. After everything that’s happened, it’s nothing short of miraculous that Shiro gets to sleep next to Keith every night, knowing they’re finally safe in each other’s arms. Yet now and then he finds himself missing a former era, when there was no guarantee they’d both make it through the next battle. They were starving for each other, stealing every possible spare moment to remind themselves that they were still alive, never knowing which time would be the last. He remembers slapping the pad beside his door on the Castleship, the hiss of it sliding shut and locking, and the sounds Keith made when Shiro shoved him against the wall, dragged his pants to his knees, and made him come before they even reached the bed.

Shiro thinks of the endless blocks of color packed into his holopad’s calendar from dawn till long after dusk, delineating when, where, and with whom he’s required to go at all times. “I’ve got an awful lot on my agenda,” he says, even though the last thing he wants is to keep on shuffling Keith into the _To Do Someday_ category. He would never give up the safety—not for anything—but sometimes he wishes he hadn’t traded in the danger for a life scheduled down to the minute.

Keith makes an understanding hum. “Me too. Delegate it. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

“We’re getting a visit from the ambassadors of Atov,” Shiro reminds him. “Both of us are supposed to meet with them.”

“Reschedule the meeting. They’ll be here all week—set them up in a nice hotel with a spa or something. I bet they’d appreciate a break, too.” Keith presses his lips to Shiro’s shoulder. “Listen, if you really think you can’t leave, we can try again later. It’s just—” There’s a catch in his voice, so small that Shiro almost doesn’t hear it. “Shiro, I need you.”

_Need_. The word overflows with meaning, loneliness and desperation and desire spilling out of one syllable. It sets Shiro’s soul aflame—he hasn’t heard that tone out of Keith in some time. Maybe he’s been kidding himself, thinking he can subsist on the scraps of Keith’s attention that he allows himself to savor. He’s seen how the stress of the Garrison’s workload can fracture a relationship, and that’s not something he wants to put Keith through. “I need you too,” Shiro whispers. “God, baby… Okay, we’ll make it happen. Whatever it takes.”

*

What it takes is a lot of apologies and promises, but they both manage to clear their schedules for one full day. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had a real vacation since we were in space,” Keith says as they walk out into the early morning light. “Remember the beach on Crotera?”

They’d gone night-swimming in swirling rainbows of bioluminescence, Crotera’s giant moon a colossal crescent high above. It was more of a stopover than a vacation—a secure location to wait for half a quintant or so while rebel forces scouted a nearby Galra supply line. Still, a few vargas of Keith soaking wet and laughing had done a great deal to lift Shiro’s spirits. “We should go back sometime,” Shiro says. “Could be nice for our anniversary.” Which isn’t for another six months, but it’ll probably take that long to get all the required documents approved for them to leave their duties for a couple of weeks. Another thing he misses about the Castleship: no forms in triplicate.

“I’d love that,” Keith says. “Hey, you wanna drive?” he offers, when they reach his parked hoverbike.

“It’s okay, you can.” Shiro hides a grin at Keith’s knowing smile. He’s never made a secret of how much he loves clinging to Keith’s waist as they speed through canyons.

Keith takes an unnecessary amount of time to adjust his position on the seat, wiggling backward until his ass is pressed firmly into Shiro’s crotch.

Shiro sucks in a breath. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he accuses, with no heat to it.

“Can’t imagine what you mean,” Keith tosses over his shoulder, and takes off so fast that Shiro is forced to squeeze his arms hard around Keith to avoid falling off.

*

At the shack, Keith wastes no time in jumping off the hoverbike and making a beeline for the porch. Inside, he shoves his jacket at the hook beside the door, but it slides to the floor, where he ignores it.

Shiro fondly rolls his eyes—Keith still loves to rush ahead—and hangs his own coat neatly on the other hook.

Keith is already marching straight for the little bed in the corner of the room, T-shirt pulled up and halfway off, when Shiro stops him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shiro’s tone is light, teasing, but there’s steel in the words.

“Uh—” Keith pauses, lost. It’s cute. “I’m taking you to bed?”

But Shiro’s been thinking about this for awhile—not this specific moment, but the thought of finally getting Keith alone, and he knows just how he wants this encounter to go. “Put that back on,” he says, still in the same gentle voice, but Keith instantly obeys anyway. It sends a little thrill spiralling down Shiro’s spine.

Keith turns to face him then. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things.” Shiro stalks toward him, watching Keith’s eyes widen as he approaches. “I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you lately.”

“It’s all right.” Keith shrugs, though there’s sadness in his gaze. “We’ve both been really busy. Fate of the world resting on our shoulders and all.”

“Still,” Shiro says. He’s close enough to touch Keith now, so he does, squeezing Keith’s shoulders with both hands. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Keith frowns at him. “I wouldn’t say _that_.” Always so quick to counter any negative comment Shiro directs at himself.

“No? Those rushed handjobs been enough for you, really?” Shiro _tsks_. “Come on, baby, be honest with me. I know you need more.”

Keith colors, a delightful flush spreading over his cheeks and down the column of his throat. “Um,” he says, or rather, squeaks. “I’ve—you know, I haven’t really thought about…”

“Go on,” Shiro says. “Tell me what you haven’t been thinking about. Tell me what _isn’t_ on your mind when you jerk off in the shower every morning.”

Keith swallows hard, but he doesn’t look away from Shiro’s gaze. “What I don’t think about?” His hands come up to Shiro’s hips. “You pushing me face-first against the wall of the shower and taking care of me. Holding me upright even though my knees are giving out.”

“I see,” Shiro purrs. “That’s good. I’ll remember it for later.”

“Can we go to bed now?” Keith breathes. “I really, really need to be naked.”

Shiro slides his hands down Keith’s chest, smoothing out the fabric. “I want you to keep your clothes on for now. But we can go to the bed if you like.”

The bed is really, _really_ small. Shiro had forgotten just how cramped it is, fitting his body and Keith’s onto a twin mattress. Keith squeezes himself against the wall, trying to allow Shiro as much room as possible, and Shiro kisses him hard to show his gratitude.

“Gotta say, I wasn’t picturing getting pushed against a wall quite like this,” Keith says.

That makes Shiro laugh so hard he loses his balance and topples off the side of the bed. Luckily it’s a low frame, so it doesn’t even hurt.

“Shit,” Keith gasps. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“Baby, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Shiro gets to his feet and kneels on the bed again. “But I think we need to try something else.” He tugs at Keith’s arm until Keith gets the idea and moves so he’s lying in the center of the bed. Shiro swings one leg over him, then lowers his body down on top of Keith’s. “Like this,” he whispers, and then they’re kissing again, the soft heat of Keith’s mouth inviting him in. Shiro grinds down a little, just lightly, enough to feel Keith’s arousal. Keith tenses, his breath a staccato _ah- ah- ah_ \- as Shiro rolls against him, and Shiro starts to wonder just how long he’ll be able to make _himself_ wait. It’ll be worth it, he reminds himself.

“You’re hard,” Keith groans. He isn’t even trying to hold still, wriggling against Shiro like maybe it’ll get them somewhere faster. Shiro lets more of his weight rest on Keith, pressing him harder into the bed.

“I know. Feels good.”

“Don’t you wanna do something about it?”

Oh, so many things. But that’s for later. “Just this,” Shiro tells him, and claims Keith’s mouth with a decadent kiss—slow, silky, and deep. Every little whimper he drags from Keith’s lips is a prize to savor; he treasures every tremble and shiver. “Did you really think, once I got you all to myself, that I wouldn’t take my time with you?”

“Is that so?”

“Baby, I’m just getting started.” Shiro leaves kisses in a searing line along Keith’s jaw and downward. At the base of Keith’s throat, Shiro sucks a collar of rubies into his skin.

“ _Nnh_ —are you leaving marks?” Keith asks.

Shiro adds another. “Better keep your collar buttoned up tomorrow.”

“Come _on_ ,” Keith grumbles. “Let me see you, I need to feel you—”

“I think you can feel me just fine.” Shiro moves against him again, too many layers between them, but the thick heat of Keith’s cock electrifies him anyway.

“Shiro, please—”

“It’s been so long since we had time for this.” Shiro runs the back of his fingers over Keith’s cheek. “I love kissing you, sweetheart.”

It’s a dirty trick, and Shiro knows it. Keith is weak for that endearment—his frantic gaze softens, and the tension in his muscles melts away, leaving him soft and pliant in Shiro’s arms. “I love kissing you too.” As if to emphasize his sentiment, he surges upward and catches Shiro’s mouth for himself.

The kiss is sweet and scorching, and it throws gasoline on the smoldering arousal low in Shiro’s belly. He growls into it, biting down on Keith’s lip to make him whine. “Tell me how you feel right now,” he commands.

Keith stares up at him with wide and longing eyes. “…Need you,” he tries.

“A little more detail, baby.”

“I’m so…” Keith lets his gaze shift sideways, abashed.

Shiro cups his jaw, coaxing him into bravery. “Look at me and tell me.”

“Fuck, Shiro—”

“You can do it, sweetheart. Do it for me.”

Keith keeps his heart under glass, and anyone else would think it’s only about protecting himself. But Shiro knows that Keith worries about being too much; that he tries to shields the world from the supernova in his soul. It isn’t necessary to break in, though—merely to wait and give Keith space and safety.

Patience pays off, and in Keith’s eyes, Shiro sees the moment the glass lifts. Keith baring himself this way is gratifying in its own right, a kind of nakedness that makes Shiro lose his mind with love. God, he wants it all, anything and everything Keith wants to give him.

“I’m so fucking hard,” Keith whispers.

Shiro reaches down between them to feel for himself. “ _Oh_ , wow. You really are.”

“ _Shiro_ —”

“You’re so good, telling me that,” Shiro praises. “I’m going to do something nice for you.” He slides his hands under Keith’s shirt, pushing it up and off as Keith stretches his arms luxuriously over his head. Shiro starts with a kiss to Keith’s navel, flicking his tongue into the divot, letting Keith think maybe he’s gonna get his way now. Then it’s a slow journey up Keith’s torso, mouthing at his solar plexus, his sternum, the hollow of his throat, while Keith makes noises like he can’t decide whether to protest or beg for more.

Keith tries to buck against Shiro, but with Shiro’s weight on his legs, he can’t really manage it. “I’m not sure this counts as nice,” he complains.

“I’m being _very_ nice. I like appreciating you.” With his left hand, Shiro caresses Keith’s chest, rubbing the place where he’s most sensitive. He makes sure to drag his ring over it, and Keith hisses at the feeling of smooth, warm metal against his skin. He lays kisses there as well, sucking gently until Keith moans.

When Shiro thinks he’s tormented Keith long enough, he moves downward again and pops open the button on Keith’s jeans. He’s watching Keith’s face as he pulls down the zipper and hooks his fingers in the waistband, as Keith lifts his hips to allow room for Shiro to undress him, so it’s not until he looks down that he sees—

“Keith,” he breathes. “When did you get these?”

“I was keeping them for a special occasion. Do you like them?” Keith squirms a little, pointedly.

Shiro stares at the flex of Keith’s muscles and the swell of his cock under the black satin panties. He can't resist touching, curving his palm over the front, enjoying Keith’s pretty sigh as Shiro strokes him through the fabric. “You got all dressed up for me. Fuck, you look—” Beautiful, powerful, delicious. Fuck, he’s so in love, and there aren’t words strong enough. “You look amazing. I love them.” He loves Keith’s brilliant, satisfied smile, too.

He explores: testing the snap of elastic against Keith’s stomach and thighs, teasing his fingertips just underneath, and squeezing Keith’s hips where the satin turns to lace.

Lace, huh. “Turn over,” he tells Keith, moving off of him for a moment so he can do as Shiro asks. The grin he gets in response lets him know something good is coming.

Slowly, Keith rolls onto his front, and Shiro bites his own tongue but can’t stop the moan that slips out. The back of the panties is _all_ lace, nothing whatsoever left to his imagination. The scalloped edge hugs his ass, the line of it form-fitting and drawing Shiro’s gaze right where he’s certain Keith wants it.

Shiro spreads him open, and yes, there beneath the lace… He presses a thumb to Keith’s hole, rubbing gently, admiring him, and Keith gasps at the slight rough scrape of the material. “You should wear these more often,” Shiro comments. “Under your uniform. See if you can make it through the day being constantly reminded that I’m going to fuck you in them later.”

“Only if you wear some too,” Keith bargains.

Shiro thinks about it for a moment. Yeah, he could totally pull off that look. “Anything for you, baby. Now—hands and knees for me.” Keith scrambles into the position as directed, and Shiro kneels between his legs. Carefully, he pulls aside the lace for a better view. “Look at you,” he sighs. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

“You should probably take off your pants then,” Keith snarks.

“Mouthy.” Shiro gives him a light smack for it.

“So shut me up.” It’s a challenge and a plea—Keith loves a little bit of a struggle, but he’s also getting desperate.

Shiro slips a hand between Keith’s legs, petting him where the head of his cock strains against the fabric. It’s wet under his fingertips, and Keith whimpers. “I’ll give you whatever you ask me for. But you have to ask.”

The struggle is more than physical, is the thing. Thighs braced wide, ass spread open, all his most intimate places on display, Keith still has to fight himself to overcome his mental barriers. Asking for what he wants is still so difficult for him. Shiro loves to watch him fight—and loves to watch him win. He’s so proud of Keith, every time.

Keith’s breath is slow and heavy as he prepares himself up to say it. “I want you to fuck me,” he says in a soft voice.

Shiro shuffles forward, pushing his still-clothed cock up against Keith. He thinks he’s got a couple more minutes of teasing Keith left in him. “Fuck you how?”

Keith looks over his shoulder just to roll his eyes at Shiro. “Well, you should be naked, preferably.”

Another swat. “Behave.”

Keith shoves his ass backward, riding the line of Shiro’s cock. “Shiro, come on, I know you want it, you want me, you want to fuck me—”

“I do,” Shiro growls; and then he can’t wait any longer, he’s too hot for it, and Keith moans in relief as Shiro peels the panties off and finally allows Keith the touch of bare fingers on his rim. He undresses and opens Keith quickly, not because he’s in a hurry but because _Keith_ is. His pleading has reached a fever pitch, and he’s fucking back on Shiro’s fingers as hard as he can, gripping the sheets in both hands, the muscles in his thighs and shoulders straining. And Shiro _had_ said whatever Keith asked him for—this is what Keith wants.

“Let me ride you,” Keith gasps. “I’m ready, please, I need it.”

Shiro pulls Keith upright and quiets him with a soft kiss to his begging mouth. “Then come here and sit on it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Keith sinks down slowly, carefully, panting as he’s stretched, supported by Shiro’s hands around his waist. He has to pause for a moment to breathe and adjust, because even when he’s needy like this—“You’re so fucking _huge_ ,” he chokes out.

Shiro grins against the nape of his neck. “How is that still a surprise to you?”

“Not a surprise. Just— _nngh_ —love it. Love you.” Keith’s voice breaks into a low whine as he seats himself fully.

Shiro wraps his arms around him, holding him still for a moment, feeling the pulse and clench of his body. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” He presses his forehead to the top of Keith’s spine, closing his eyes, breathing him in.

“God, you’re gonna make me—” Keith’s vioce shakes, and he clears his throat. “You’re the best thing in my life, too.”

They fuck like that, Shiro taking over and thrusting when Keith’s legs start trembling too much, clinging as close to Keith as he can get.

Keith comes on a teeth-gritted scream, but he won’t let Shiro pull out. “In me,” he gasps. “I wanna feel it.” Right hand over his mouth, left braced on Shiro’s thigh with a gold ring shining on his finger, he muffles his own cries as Shiro fucks up into him, takes it all as his lashes grow damp and tears sneak little shining trails down his cheeks. Anything, everything for Keith.

*

“We should delegate more often,” Shiro says in a low voice. “At least once a month.”

Keith is lying on top of him now; both of them are drowsy and still completely naked. Neither of them are in a hurry to change any of that. “At least twice,” he suggests.

“You are so right. What was I thinking?” Shiro has to kiss him again. Keith always has the best ideas.

“We should shower together sometimes, too.”

Shiro nods. “Joint showers. You got it.”

“Thank you for listening to me,” Keith says, a little more sober now. “When I asked you to come out here. When I said I needed you. I know it means we’ll both have a lot of work to catch up on when we get back, so I really appreciate it.”

“I needed you just as much,” Shiro tells him. “So thank _you_ for reminding me to give myself a break.”

“You wanna maybe take one of those showers now?” Keith offers. “And then maybe a nap where we don’t have to set an alarm for once.”

Shiro thinks of Keith’s earlier fantasy. “Need me to take care of you a little more?”

“I was thinking,” Keith says, dark eyes flashing with a promise, “that maybe it’s your turn to be taken care of.”

Shiro barely holds back a groan at the idea of it. “Sounds like a properly-balanced workload to me.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Keith says. He rolls off Shiro and stands up, holding out a hand. “If you’re still thinking about properly-balanced workloads, then I have some distracting to do.”

Shiro grabs his hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. “Distract me then, sweetheart.”


End file.
